


Cookies

by rayenbow



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 00:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayenbow/pseuds/rayenbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Magnus and Isabelle (attempt to) bake cookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookies

This is, by far, the worst idea Magnus Bane has ever had. It tops off with that time he got into a shot contest with an Irish warlock (which he lost, badly, because he sorely overestimated his own ability to hold his liquor and underestimated the alcohol tolerance of the Irish), and the time he decided to join a cult back in the 17th century (the result of having a few too many and engaging a particularly pretty woman in conversation).  
  
Both of those were terrible decisions. Somehow, this one may be worse.  
  
“I said one cup,” Magnus sighs, and leans back against the counter.  
  
Isabelle looks from the bowl of ingredients to his tired expression. “That was one cup.”  
  
“No. It was two.”  
  
She peers at the measuring cup, then at the bowl, then back at him. “Oh. I bet it’ll taste okay anyway. I mean, what’s one more cup of sugar going to do?”  
  
Slowly, he arches a brow at her. “Besides make it far too sweet?”  
  
“No such thing.” She dips her fingertips into the batter delicately, taking care to make sure it’s not dripping before holding them out to him. “Go on,” she says, and when he doesn’t automatically respond, she waves her hand impatiently. “Taste.”  
  
With another sigh, he fights the urge to roll his eyes and leans forward, running his tongue over her fingers. The sugar hits him like a ton of bricks. It _is_ way too sweet, not unlike sucking on a couple of sugarcubes. He closes his eyes, mentally counting to five, and pulls away. “It’s...” _fine_ , he means to say, because he’d rather lie to her than get her all in a tizzy, but the words that come out instead are, “completely awful.”  
  
For several seconds, she stares at him, and he can only wonder what on earth happened to the filter between his brain and mouth. Maybe the sugar destroyed it. “It can’t be that bad,” she says. She takes the spoon from the bowl and gives it an experimental taste. Her reaction is immediate; her nose crinkles, she makes a small noise in the back of her throat, and she coughs slightly. “It’s still edible.”  
  
“Isabelle,” Magnus says, in that tone he uses when he knows she’s lying.  
  
“Okay, fine. Maybe we should do store bought next time.”


End file.
